


Heartstorm

by SOABA



Series: The Big Short Challenge [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amnesia, M/M, The Big Short, Very Little Respect for Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 20:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8416216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SOABA/pseuds/SOABA
Summary: "Sometimes, especially during times like these, when the memories were so strong, Sam thought that saving the world had not been worth the heart-wrenching price that had been demanded."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Big Short Flash Fiction 500-1000 Word Challenge on Rough Trade, hosted by Keira Marcos.  
> Prompt: Wet

**_Heartstorm_ **

Sam had always loved the rain.

He loved storms, he loved the feeling of cloud water plopping down onto his head and trailing down his face, cooling the flesh it touched, and he loved experiencing the sensation of static in the air as lightning cracked, vibrant and golden, across the sky. So when the storm currently raging had swept over the cheap motel in the one-horse town that he, Dean, and Cas were temporarily residing in, because of reports that a vampire was in the area, Sam had waited only until he was sure that his brother had to be sufficiently distracted, via means that Sam had no wish to examine closely, by Thursday’s Angel before slipping out of his room and allowing the torrential downpour to encompass him. Dean worried enough about Sam without having to be troubled about this particular habit as well.

Thunder rolled, loud and vehement, above him and Sam closed his eyes, permitting memories both potent and bittersweet to wash over him with the rain.

It had stormed the night before the apocalypse had been averted- the night before Gabriel had given his life to stop Michael and Lucifer. That particular storm had been spectacular to witness, as if Nature herself had been protesting the earth-shattering events that were about to unfold, and Gabe had agreed, taking Sam up into the tempest to experience it in a way that no other mortal ever had. Deep inside the heart of a massive thundercloud, with lightning flashing around them, Sam and Gabe had made love- for the first and final time.

There was nothing that Sam regretted as much as he did not telling Gabe that he loved him that night.

‘ _I’m not fighting my brothers tomorrow because I care about stopping them from destroying humanity as they try to kill one another. I’m doing it because I love you, Sam, and I will neither stand for Lucifer taking you and twisting everything wonderful about you into something dark and corrupted nor for your heartbreak if the world you care about so much is decimated,_ ’ Gabe had told him as they hovered together in the darkened sky, shaking his head when Sam started to reply. ‘ _Don’t say it because I did_.’

‘ _But-_ ’

‘ _Tell me tomorrow,_ ’ Gabe had insisted, ‘ _After we win. Once we’re truly free._ ’

And then Gabe had kissed him again and Sam’s protests had died before passing his lips.

They had won, had even managed to wrest Adam out of Michael’s control, but the cost had been Gabriel’s life. Sometimes, especially during times like these, when the memories were so strong, Sam thought that saving the world had not been worth the heart wrenching price that had been demanded.

“Gabe,” Sam whispered into the gusting wind, “Gabe, I love you.”

Nothing happened. Sam’s Archangel did not miraculously appear to piece Sam’s shattered soul back together. But then, Sam had not been expecting such a miracle to occur. He was not special, he was not the Righteous Man- he was the younger brother whom everyone in Heaven and Hell had expected would betray Dean and turn to the Devil. Sam had been unconditionally loved by Gabe, and that was enough for him, he did not need to be loved by God too.

Eventually, the rain began to peter out and Sam reluctantly trudged back into his motel room, soaked through and exhausted, yet satisfied. He showered quickly, hung his sopping clothes over the back and armrests of the rickety desk chair, pulled on a pair of fleece pajama pants, and then collapsed on top of the too-short, queen-sized bed.

He was asleep within minutes, dreaming of an Archangel’s laugh and the spark of mischief, _so_ similar to lightning, that had constantly flashed through his champagne-colored eyes.

************************************************************************

A few thousand miles away, stood a Trickster watching a tropical storm forming over the Pacific Ocean. It was beautiful, the typhoon, a cacophony of booming thunder, and crashing waves, and howling gales of wind. Chaos in a tangible form.

And Loki _adored_ chaos.

Loki had lived long enough that nothing about the storm, no matter how volatile such tempests, by nature, were, should have surprised him. The agonized whisper that the wind carried to him without warning, however, _did_.

‘ _Gabe, I love you,_ ’ Loki heard the wind convey to him, in a voice that was strangely compelling.

Millennia he had lived through, and yet nothing had ever left him as shaken as he was in that moment. For a minute, he even contemplated finding the source of the heartbroken message and _helping_ them… but then he came to his senses and remembered just who he was. He was Loki, the God of Mischief, and he did _not_ help people.

Without sparing it a backward glance, Loki left the typhoon behind in favor of finding a mortal to torment, steadfastly ignoring the storm that had begun to brew in his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is FINISHED. There will not be more of this. I will be writing Sam/Gabriel stories in the future though.


End file.
